Lost Hopes
by Kimijaro
Summary: Germany is experiencing the horrors of war. In the era of Hitler, Ludwig is forced against his will to cooperate with him, and in the process, admits he is in love with North Italy. His secret is hard to keep from Hitler, especially with the oblivious country at his side. On top of that, he has to pull himself out of poverty. Warning: fluffiness! Rated for language.
1. Chapter 1

CHAPTER 1 (A/N): This is my first fic, I hope you enjoy~

Running his hands through his hair to apply hair gel for the billionth time, Ludwig looks scornfully at himself in the mirror. _What have I turned into?_ The corners of his mouth turn downward in disgust. _Verdammt, I should never have agreed to make Hitler the leader of my country..._He tells himself yet again. His muscles are not as well defined, his ribs are more prominent, and the angles on his face more pronounced. Giving himself one last bitter glance, he makes his way over to his closet, carefully picking out his green uniform. Fully aware of his situation, he still holds his head up high as he exits his bedroom, bravely entering the main area of the house, brushing past his currently hungover brother, Gilbert, and finally finding his destination in Hitler's office. He quietly knocks on the door, and enters.

"Ludwig," Hitler greets him with a curt nod. Ludwig hides a scowl, outstretching his arm in front of his face in the signature Nazi tradition. Oh, how he hated it, being forced into obedient silence in front of this evil man. The pure hatred and resentment boiled deep within his belly. He knew not to speak out though, at least not yet. If he did, it would most definitely end him up in the deepest, darkest prison his own country, his own being, possessed. So he just stood there, awaiting orders. "I want you to do an important task for me, Ludwig," Hitler purrs, looking deep into Ludwig's blue eyes. He tries not to grimace. "I need you to exterminate the Jews. Kill them all. Form concentration camps, hire a group of our highest Nazi advocates, and put them in charge. They need to be killed, in the name of God and all His Glory," Hitler continues sardonically, his voice menacing. "They are impurities to the way of life here. Germany is not perfect with them in existence..." Ludwig tunes out. He cannot bear to listen to more. _Killing his own people?_ Did Hitler know how badly that would effect the economy? Even more so on his_ own body?_ He could be hospitalized for who knows how long. How dare he consider such a thing. No matter who somebody was, they did not deserve to die because of their faith; Hitler was being a hypocrite-his own mother is Jewish. Narrowing his eyes, he quite distastefully and ungraciously nodded and stalked out. He cannot disobey orders. The leader of his country is his own personal dictator, since he is the country of Germany within itself. Racking his brain for loopholes, Ludwig finds nothing. _Nothing_. He curses himself over and over, for he will have to go to Ivan, and ally with him. The battle plan is already forming within his head, and he knows he will end up betraying Ivan for his own selfish sake. No, _Hitler's_ selfish sake. His only escape would be to find Feliciano, who seems to be the only friend on his side right now. Sighing, he recalls how the dense brunette country would always keep him on his toes. Yet, he would always be happy next to the prattling country, loving everything about the damn man. No, he is another male, he cannot come out as homosexual to Hitler. Not now, not ever. That will indefinitely get him tortured for the rest of his pitiful existence, since killing an immortal country is out of the question.

Without thinking, he finds himself at the bubbly Italian's doorstep. Before he can turn around, Feliciano opens the door and embraces him.

"Germany~" he coos. "I haven't seen you in such a long time~! Oh, why are you so thin? Would you like some pasta?" he takes a step back, examining Ludwig, noticing a difference in the German's appearance. Ludwig can't help but crack a smile, for it was all he could do not to completely step out of character and glomp the man. "_Ja_, I guess that would be nice..." He trails off, stepping into the Italian's very warm, welcoming home. Feliciano wastes no time skipping into the kitchen, and prepping to make noodles. Ludwig can hear him quietly humming from his place on the living room sofa, and takes a much needed moment to relax his tense, weakened muscles. Sighing, he closes his eyes, and slips into unconsciousness.

It was not until Ludwig awakened that he realized how exhausted he had been. He had not slept well for months, and he actually woke up feeling quite refreshed and recuperated, in a sense. Feliciano quietly shuffles into the living room and places himself next to Ludwig.

"You were asleep when I finished making the pasta, so if you want some now, I can warm it up for you~" Feliciano tells him, his eyes wide with worry. "I've never seen you this tired...Are you sure you're okay?" He pouts, nuzzling against Ludwig. He sighs, and strokes the Italian's hair soothingly, making sure to avoid his sensitive ahoge.

"_Ja_, I'm alright. Please, don't worry about me, I'm just...going through some difficulties with my leader, that's all," he replies, hoping his wary statement would convince him. He wasn't necessarily lying, for it was true. Just not the entire reason for his vague reply. Feliciano shifts his head so his big brown orbs meet Ludwig's piercing blue ones. There was a hint of sadness in his eyes, almost like he knew the German wasn't telling him everything. Feliciano wraps his arms gingerly around Ludwig's waist, and buries his face into his chest, sighing comfortably. Ludwig returns the hug, and they stay like that for a moment longer, his head on the Italian's. "Feliciano?" Ludwig asks, almost a bit nervously.

"Si, Germany~?" comes a muffled reply.

"Would you...".._.love me?_ He can't finish like that, so with his face burning, he quickly evades with, "...ally with me? I think we would make a great team against England and the other allies, so-" Feliciano's wide smile cuts him off.

"Of course, Germany~" he coos. "Anything for you~" Ludwig allows himself to smile yet again, for he can't help himself when he's with the stupid Italian. _Gott, why do I have to love him so much, when I know I can't be with him?_ He inwardly scowls at himself. Suddenly, his butt pocket vibrates. He quickly takes the source of the movement, his phone, out of his pocket, and flips it open. _One new text message from: Hitler_. It reads. He unwraps his other arm from Feliciano, and reads it.

_"Ludwig, I understand you were not in Germany last night. The reason must be exceptionally good, because you have not carried out the task I personally gave you. You are ordered to return at once, and ally with Ivan immediately. If you don't, the consequences given will make you wish you weren't put into this damn world. -Hitler_". Shit, he knew he had overslept, and he could not waste any more time. He hastily said his goodbyes to Feliciano, and rushed out the door. Upon flinging the door open to his own house, he comes face-to-face with Hitler himself.

"Sir, I deeply apologize for making you wait. I was..." desperately trying to protect Italy, he continues with, "allying with Italy. I hear they have an excellent army, and it will make us look good against the Allies." Hitler narrows his eyes, and raises his head defiantly.

"I had not told you to ally with them."

"I know, sir, I thought they would come in handy when we betray the USSR." Ludwig responds, desperately trying to hold on to his ties with Feliciano. Hitler gives him an unreadable look, and finally nods curtly.

"I suppose you're right. Next time, consult me before you make a move like that. Is that understood?" he growls. Ludwig nods hastily, saluting him. "Good. Now go to the Ivan and ally with him. Now."

He quickly makes his way out of his house again, and proceeds to take the road that will lead him to the creepy Russian. Sighing, he slows his pace as he is well away from his damned house. _I can no longer do what I feel is right for my country. I cannot even spend any time with Feliciano..._ Suddenly he cannot contain himself any more. The crushing reality almost literally hits him in the face, and he crumples to the ground and sobs violently. The last time he had cried was when he was a child, when his only worries were when to get home in time for supper. He covers his face with his hands, sobs now racking his body, and hiccuping like a lost child. He knew he was lost, not physically, but mentally; he had no idea what to do. He dragged his precious Italy into this whole shitty mess, and the possibility of hurting the kind-hearted man was significantly higher. Some rustling behind him made him bolt back to his feet, but it was no use looking intimidating; the tears were still flowing steadily. Much to his surprise, Italy walks out, and immediately embraces him. Not knowing what else to do, he hopelessly buries his face in his neck and sobs into it, stripping him of whatever dignity he had left.

"Shh, shh~" Feliciano consoles him. "Do not fret, Germany. I am here, I will help you. Whatever has been bothering you, you must tell me, please. I want to help." Ludwig's poor, damaged heart nearly breaks, for he knows if he tells him, he could get in deep trouble. But he cannot hold himself back, for words are spewing out of his mouth.

"Oh, Italy...Italy..." he murmurs. "My country is falling apart. Hitler has already started to murder a great percentage of my population en mass, and if it continues, I may disappear as a country..." his voice shaking, he tightens his desperate grip on poor Feliciano, but the Italian only warmly does the same. "I know this is wrong, Feli, I know I cannot say this without getting punished, but I need you to know. I need you to know.._.Ich liebe dich_..." he breathes, knowing he could get rejected. Knowing the Italian could break his ties with him at any given moment.

But there is only love offered in the Italian's eyes.

"It's okay,bello, I will help you to the best of my abilities. _Ti amo. Ti amo..._" Feliciano gently kisses Ludwig on the nose, and for the first time in months, he feels hope.


	2. Chapter 2

CHAPTER 2

A strong air of awkwardness crackles in the space between Ludwig and Ivan. It wasn't getting through to that thick-skulled imbecile that Ludwig wanted to ally with him. The only thing that seemed to pass through his ears were "become one with you," which was not what was desired at all. A creepy smile was now plastered on the Soviet's face, and it was definitely starting to freak Ludwig out.

"You want to become one with Russia, _da_?" Ivan asks innocently in that childishly angelic voice. Ludwig could _not_ be fooled into that one. He'd seen what it can do to other countries, especially Belarus...

"_Nein_, Ivan, I just want to ally with you. Not become the same country, not anything of that sort. Please understand, it's for the sake of winning against the Allies." he responds, hoping the idiot would finally understand.

"Ah, no becoming one with me?" pouts the Russian man. "What's in it for me, then?" he proceeds with. Ludwig sighs. He had not thought this through well enough, apparently.

"Well..." he racks his brain for a just compensation. "You would get to beat up America. I know you two don't get along. And this time, it's legal." Amazingly, Ivan is nodding thoughtfully. Surprising that any thought goes through that man's head, nowadays.

"I'll see through to that deal, Ludwig Beilschmitt, don't disappoint me with a scrawny army." Ivan smiles widely and almost devilishly. Ludwig shivers uncomfortably. To be honest, he would not have chosen the Soviet to ally with, if he had a choice. He was a tricky man to deal with, and he could not allow him near Feliciano.

"I will not disappoint, Ivan. You have my word." He says, shaking Ivan's gloved hand. Nodding curtly, Ludwig turns to leave.

"Ludwig," the Soviet's low purr is heard from behind. "I _know_ about you. You and your little...'friend,'" he sneers, his head tilted up in an authoritative manner. He stalks up to Ludwig's back side and leans down to whisper in his ear. "Don't make me 'accidentally' spill it, you filth." The last word came out dripping with disgust. A cold chill shoots down his spine as he feels Ivan's cold words in his ear. Without turning around to confront what he meant, Ludwig almost runs out of the house. His stomach clenches, and his eyes cloud with so much worry, they may have physically turned gray. _How could he possibly know about that?_ Fear bubbles deep within his gut. He has not felt fear this powerful for centuries. He lifts his head to the sky, hoping against hope for something to go right, for once. _Gott, where have you gone?_ His faith was slowly deteriorating, for he could not possibly find a way that a god could do this to him. Another thing he could never tell Hitler. His own mind,_ Germany_, was not the perfect image that the damned man wanted. It never would be. Free will was more powerful than his brainwashing lectures and pep rallies, and Ludwig was determined to prove it.

His face in his hands, Ludwig hears Hitler's voice in his head. "_You wretched_ fool! _He_ threatened _you_? _Do you know what that means?! Weakness! This country is not weak, we are not fools! We are proud! If you show any weakness, you can say goodbye to the light of day, is that understood?"_ He recalls how angry Hitler was. His face was red as a cherry, and he was spitting every word at him. He almost feels as though pride is the thing tearing his country apart. But what was said was not what worried him. It was the fact that he would not be able to get out easily to go see Feliciano. His strong feelings for the man were confusing him. He had never known love would conquer all other thoughts in his head. He could not think properly, and he was getting overwhelmed. Going over it for the hundredth time in his head, he finally decides to just get up and see him, no matter what Hitler says. He almost successfully makes it out the door when he is barred by said man.

"Where do you think you're going?" Hitler demands, his brows furrowed, his jaw set.

"Out." Ludwig responds, frustration causing him to try to push through, without success.

"Why?" His leader presses, annoyed that his answer was so blunt.

"Because you are not my mother. I need to think, _verdammt_! Let me **_out_**!" In a burst of fury and confidence, Ludwig finally pushes Hitler aside and stalks out the door. He does not look back to make sure he was allowed to do so (A/N: Let it be assured that Hitler looks dumbfounded and incredulous. Because nobody's defied him!). Continuing on his way off of his property, he heads straight for Feliciano's house, not caring if he was going to get in trouble. He finds the gentle country watering some roses in his front yard, humming an unfamiliar tune. His face breaks into a smile, as he strolls up to the Italian, tapping him on the top of the head from behind. Caught by surprise, Feliciano squeaks and drops his watering bucket. Upon realizing who his "attacker" is, he shines a bright smile back and leans into the tall German, sneaking his arms around his waist. Ludwig returns the hug, sighing as all his problems are allowed to disappear for a moment. They stay like that for a minute, and Ludwig cherishes it, whispering sweet nothings into Feliciano's hair. When they break apart, he finds Romano scowling at them.

"What do you think you're doing to my brother, potato bastard?! Let him go, you fucking pedophile!" Romano growls, continuing with a slew of cuss words and insults.

"You know, your brother isn't objecting...Besides, I'm not the one with the clueless Spaniard," Ludwig points out with a brow raised, holding back a sharper retort. If standing with his brother had not pissed him off enough already, _this_ was the tipping point. Romano's face lit up like a fire hydrant, and he marches towards Germany, pointing a certain finger at said man.

"Listen here,_ cazzo_, I am _not_ with that tomato bastard! In fact, I have no interest in the man whatsoever-" Romano's tirade is cut off by Spain's wail behind him, the Spaniard seeming to appear out of nowhere.

"Bu-bu-but _Roooomaaaaaaaaa_!" Spain bawls. "What about our cuddle last night? You told me you lov-" he is cut off by an angry Romano slapping a hand over his mouth. His face even redder than before, he furiously whispers something into Spain's ear. Spain suddenly stops crying and his eyes grow wide.

"Ooooohhhhh, you were only saying that because-" Again, poor Spain is cut off because of Romano's angry, flustered shushing. Defeated, he sighs and facepalms so hard, a red hand-shape forms itself slowly on his forehead. He furiously grabs Spain's hand and stalks back into the house, attempting to make a point by slamming the door so hard, the "Ciao!" sign on his and Feliciano's house comes crashing to the ground. An awkward silence ensues, with Italy's face having constructed the most confused face anybody's ever seen on the man.

"Well..." Ludwig physically closes his jaw. "That was...different."

"Germany~" Feliciano coos after a brief moment of recovery. "What did Spain mean by 'cuddling'?" He asks, absolutely clueless. Germany's face turns several shades of red.

"Well...it's when two people are in bed together, and they...hug each other." Came his evasive reply. Somewhere, Francis starts laughing.

"Can we cuddle sometime?" Italy asks innocently. Ludwig considers his answer carefully, for he doesn't want to remain on this topic.

"Maybe someday,_ liebe_, but not yet. I have more important things to deal with right now..." He responds, blushing a bit. Suddenly, an angry caterwaul can be heard from behind them, and he steps protectively in front of Feliciano.

"What's _this_?" The voice says, it's holder stepping out from some bushes. It is none other than Hitler. Ludwig cannot help but be surprised Hitler actually took to following him. Yet again, fear shoots through him, and he tries to come up with a pity excuse.

"It's not what you think-"

"It's exactly what I think, because I _saw_ you. You lying, sick bastard! You are disgracing this country, being with _another man_! It's _wrong_, you fool, I've tried to teach you how to be perfect, but you just won't get it through your _damned skull_!" Hitler practically screeches. This is by far the angriest he's been. Slowly and menacingly, he pulls out a pistol from his boot. Feliciano whimpers from his position behind Ludwig, fisting the back of his uniform coat in fear. "And _you_," Hitler sneers, waving his gun at the poor Italian man shivering behind Germany. "You are weak enough to fall for this poor excuse of a country! And he is a _man_!" The last word is spit out in distaste. Feliciano flinches and buries his face into Ludwig's uniform shirt. Growing desperate, Ludwig throws away his last bit of pride.

"Please, sir, I'll do anything. Just don't hurt Italy. I advise against that." He sees a ghost of a sly smirk appear on Hitler's face as he considers.

"I will not hurt that filth, but I will take you with me. Come here, now." Hitler responds, beckoning by waving the pistol around. Germany pries himself off of Feliciano, sneaks a murmur of farewell, and makes his way towards Hitler. Suddenly a gunshot cracks in his ears, and pain blossoms in his arm. Teeth clenched, he sinks to his knees and grabs at the point of excruciating pain, feeling blood seep between his fingers. He hears poor Feliciano scream and take a step towards him, but immediately halts when he sees the barrel of the gun pointed at him. "I promised I wouldn't hurt you, but I have the right to hurt him," he sneers._ Nein, you don't have the right! I am your country!_ Ludwig shouts in his head, desperately holding onto consciousness. He can hear his Italian lover whimper and start to sob, and he helplessly tries to force out a few words of meaningless comfort.

"Feli...I'll be okay. Please, don't cry-" He is cut off.

"_Shut up_!" Hitler snarls, advancing towards him. Picking him up none too gently by his injured arm and dragging him, Germany lets out a pained gasp. He hears Italy helplessly pleading with Hitler to stop, but is ignored. He tries once again to speak, but Hitler takes to butt of his pistol and brings it down onto his head, hard. Seeing stars, Ludwig falls silent, and then remembers no more.


	3. Chapter 3

CHAPTER 3 Ludwig does not know how long he'd been out cold, but a very intense throbbing on the side of his head tells him he's at least awake. Groaning, he slowly and painfully sits up, and touches the pulsing spot. Suddenly, a crippling pain in his arm makes him stop and double over. In fact, the pain is so immense, he hurls whatever remained in his system. _Shit, this isn't starting out well,_ he thinks, worry beginning to prick at him. Using his good arm to drag himself away from his vomit, he lets out a noise that was very uncharacteristic. It was a mix of a dying animal and a strangled whimper, caused by more stabs of pain from the spot on his arm. Running into a wall, he gets himself into a sitting position and attempts to gather his surroundings. The room was very dank and dim, with only one flickering light barely keeping the room illuminated. He was sitting at the back of the room, with a table to his right, a flat, filthy bed next to it, and a toilet to his left, with no windows, and a metal, barred door about 20 feet from his position. The room was very small, and smelled of wet soil. "You had to drag my wasted ass with down with you, didn't you, West?" He hears Gilbert's voice from behind the bed. The only bed. Ludwig sighs as the albino is seen dragging his hungover body onto said bed. "And I didn't even do anything this time..." The former country mutters, just a bit too loudly. "What could you possibly have done to break the rules? I thought you loved rules." He asks, noticing Ludwig's persistent silence. When all he gets is a glare in response, he frowns. "I'm being serious, West, what did you do?" Sighing, the German finally speaks. "I was caught with another man." Came the blunt reply. Gilbert's eyes widen, and his jaw drops. He knows his brother has no objection to anybody's sexuality, but he had never built up the nerve to tell his brother that he was homosexual. They told each other everything, when they were drunk. "You? _Gay_? I wouldn't think you of all people-" Gilbert stops himself, realizing how insensitive he sounds. "I'm sorry, I guess I'm a bit surprised, that's all. You have more testosterone than _me_, I never suspected..." He trails off, his ears turning red from embarrassment. Ludwig just shrugs, trying to shadow his growing feelings of despair and anxiety. They need to find a way out of here, fast. His injured arm is not going to better itself without professional medical aid, and there obviously wasn't any here. _His arm_. Another wave of excruciating pain hits him, and he clenches his teeth to keep from crying out. He twists it so he can get a better view of his bullet wound, only to have an even stronger wave hit him. Hissing, he raises his face to the ceiling and shuts his eyes tightly. "Whoa, West! What the fuck happened?!" Gilbert gets on his feet and starts toward him. Ludwig forces a pitiful smile and whispers, "It's just a flesh wound." Gilbert isn't in the laughing mood. He looks helplessly at his little brother, trying to think of ways to stop the pain. "Fuck my hungover brain!" He curses himself. "_Shit_...How are we going to get out of here?" The rhetorical question is left burning. Suddenly, footsteps can be heard, and the door unlatches. In steps Hitler, and Gilbert immediately pounces at him, shouting a slew of cuss words and angry slurs. Hitler merely dodges the poor hungover man and whips out his club, bringing it across Gilbert's face. His head lurches to the side, and he falls to the ground, holding his cheek. "Gilbert! Don't provoke him!" Ludwig manages to hiss through his pain. "What the hell do you want now?" He aims the question at Hitler. Hitler looks scornfully at him, seeing him sitting without strength on the floor. "I'm here to inform you that the concentration camps have gone into use, so you might feel a bit..." He stops to smile deviously, his words dripping out slowly and full of scorn. "...sick." Oh, Hitler knew full well that the more people damaged or killed, the more pain and damage Ludwig would suffer._ He's going to destroy me from the inside out! _He realizes with a jolt. Hitler wasn't going to touch him. He was merely going to kill his people for his own sake and to punish him. _How sick!_ Gilbert's leg shoots out from under him and connects with Hitler's shin, causing the cruel man to let out a shout. "Don't threaten my little brother, you sick _fuck_!" He shouts, bringing his leg back for another blow. He's too slow. Red-faced and fuming, Hitler brings his club down on Gilbert's back, causing the Prussian to collapse further than before. Again and again, Hitler brings the club down on Gilbert, while he can only shout and squirm every time the wretched thing connects. Finally, the bastard finishes and stalks out, slamming the door and locking it behind him. Gilbert is left bruised and beaten, moaning on the floor. "I'm so sorry, Gil..." Germany whispers, his head down, a few stray hairs falling into his eyes. Gilbert only raises his head weakly and gives one of his signature smirks. "D'you think I'm gonna let that piece of shit get away with that?" He pushes himself up painfully, and walks over to Ludwig, sitting down next to him. "Where's Gilbird?" Prussia's fat little bird was not with him, for once. "Maybe I should whistle for him, he might be able to get a key for this damn door." The idea didn't seem too crazy, since that was their only chance out of there. Gilbert purses his lips and lets out a few notes. Silence. He does it several more times, without success. "Damn it!" He growls, punching the wall. "Where is that motherfucker when ya need him?!" As if on cue, a little tweeting noise is heard from the doorway. "Gilbird! Unlock this damn door!" Surprisingly, a clicking noise is heard, and the door swings open. In flutters the yellow blob, chirping happily as it lands on Gilbert's head. "Aw yeah! You're awesome, just like your daddy!" He smiles, letting out a "Kesesesesese~" He helps Ludwig up, who gets on his feet none too graciously. They quickly but silently make it up a flight of stairs, and plan their next moves. A pair of guards pass nearby, but stupidly don't check where their own prisoners are being held. "This way!" Ludwig ushers them, recognizing the series of hallways as one of his top prisons. Quietly sneaking through a set of halls and several rooms, they finally see a door that leads out. Upon opening it, they see several guards posted outside. Careful not to draw attention, they remain close to the building and find a back route out. Thankful that they haven't been caught yet, they sprint through a forest and come out to a road. Breathing heavily, arm throbbing, Ludwig grows light headed. "I can't go much farther," he gasps, his arm beginning to bleed again. "Just a little farther, West, and we'll be home free. Maybe we can get that man you were with to get you to a hospital," Gilbert responds, hoping his little brother won't faint on him. He would be a bit too heavy for him to carry. They cross the road and find themselves at a park, with a few cars left unattended. "Oho, lookie here! Let's steal one, so we can travel faster." The Prussian man suggests excitedly, making his way up to one. Luckily, a key is in the ignition. "Get in the car, we're outta here!" Gilbert jumps into the driver's side, while Ludwig struggles into the passenger side, grunting with effort. His energy was seeping out of his system, for he could sense his death-rate as a country slowly increasing. Prussia starts the car and guns it onto the road, turning wildly around their first curve. Ludwig had forgotten his brother was still a bit hungover, so his judgement was probably a bit skewed. Gripping the seat tightly, he manages a few words. "Head for Feliciano Vargas's house." He needed to see if he was okay, and he also knew he would have doctors willing to fix his arm, which was now bleeding profusely. Gilbert nods, and swerves onto a side road, hitting the gas again. Ten long minutes later, they reach their destination, Gilbert having sped right up to the driveway, where he hit the breaks and almost flew through the windshield. Jumping out of the car, he helps Ludwig get out of the car and up to the Italian's door. "_Ita-chan!_" Gilbert yells, pounding on the door. It opens so quickly, he almost punches Feliciano in the face. Almost. The innocent man's eyes widen as he sees his now returned lover in a ghastly condition. He lets out a wail, and reaches out to cradle Ludwig's face in the nape of his neck. "Germany~! What _happened_? All I know is that horrible man took you away from me, and I didn't know what else to do! I'd never felt so helpless in my entire_ life_!" Feliciano frets, releasing his grip and ushering them into the house. Lovino appears from the hallway, about to make a snappy accusation directed at his brother for having two Germans in the house, when he sees Ludwig bleeding, and shuts his mouth. He resolves to just stand there looking dumbfounded. "Lovino! Grab some surgical equipment, please, _fratello_! I need to take this bullet out of Germany's arm, now!" Feliciano directs his surly brother, who nods quickly and scampers out of the room. Ludwig looks at his lover in admiration; he's never seen him take charge like this before. The Italian gently cuts his shirt off to get better access to his wound, which was still bleeding, and beginning to feel weird to him. Lovino returns to them with some gauze, and other surgical equipment. "I'm afraid we don't have pain killers available at the moment, _fratello_, you'll have to do without it," he says to Feliciano, whose eyes widen in shock. "I-i can't hurt him more than he already is! What am I supposed to-" Feliciano's worried fit is interrupted by Ludwig's hand gently touching his cheek. "I don't care if it'll hurt,_ liebe_, you do what you have to do. I already got shot, removing the bullet shouldn't be as bad." He consoles the still unsure man. Feliciano gazes at him for a long moment, brown orbs searching blue ones, then nods determinedly. He leads Ludwig into the bathroom, telling Lovino and Gilbert to stay put until they're finished. Sitting himself down in the bathtub, Ludwig grunts in pain from having to use his injured arm for support. Feliciano gently takes his arm and examines it, his eyebrows furrow, a complete look of seriousness changing his features slightly. He clicks his tongue worriedly, looking Ludwig in the eye. "Germany," he says quietly. "Infection has set in. It's going to hurt more than you thought..." he trails off. Ludwig shakes his head, determined to get the damn thing out of his flesh. "I don't care. I'd prefer this pain over an even more infected bullet wound," he assures the Italian. Once again, he nods determinedly, and rubs a sterilizer over Ludwig's wound, causing him to hiss between his teeth and close his eyes. It burned like hell. Next, the Italian puts on some latex gloves, and sterilizes his surgical tweezers. He takes a hand cloth from a rack, and puts it in Ludwig's mouth. "This will be very painful, so bite down on this, _bello_," he tells Ludwig, who nods. Feliciano lets out a breath, as if to calm himself, and uses his free hand to stretch the skin around the bullet, so he can gain better access so he can remove it properly. Ludwig flinches and readies himself, trying not to tense the muscles in his injured arm. Suddenly, pain blossoms in the affected area. _So much pain!_ Ludwig sees stars and bites down harshly on the hand cloth in his mouth, letting out a muffled scream. After a moment, the pain ebbs slightly, allowing him to loosen his death grip on the cloth just a bit. Feliciano holds up the bloody bullet with the surgical tweezers, a look of pride in his eyes. "Good job, Germany~" he coos. "Now I just have to put some antibacterial medication, and stitch up the wound." Letting out a muffled sigh, Ludwig nods, noticing that his wound burns, probably from the infection. Feliciano rubs the serum onto the infected area, which relieves the pain greatly. It was like water on fire, it felt so good. He sighs heavily, relieved that his Italy could heal him so well. He is so grateful to have him. Suddenly, a different kind of pain pricks at his wound, and he sees a couple of stitches closing it up. Feliciano applies more of the serum to his affected area, and the pain ceases all together. "There~" he smiles. "Well done! I was so scared I was hurting you too much..." "_Nein, liebe_, you did very well. _Danke_," Ludwig replies, pecking him on the forehead. Feliciano wraps his wound in gauze, and they exit the bathroom. Gilbert gives him a worried look, going over to examine the newly stitched wound. "You're all better now, right?" He asks, eyebrows tightly knit together. He places a hand on his good shoulder, and looks him in the eyes. His younger brother was taller than him by a good 3 inches. "_Ja, bruder,_ couldn't be better." Ludwig replies, flashing the biggest smile to sit on his face in a long time. He is finally allowed to know the feeling of safety, for he feels confident it is fully supplied in this warm place he can now call home, with his brother and his lover. _Safe. I feel safe..._


	4. Chapter 4

CHAPTER 4

Gingerly, Ludwig runs a light finger over his new scar. It'd been a good month since the bullet had penetrated his arm, and the stitches had just been removed. He carefully tests the muscles in the region by stretching his arm and doing a few push-ups. It doesn't seem to bother him that much, which is a good sign. The only thing bothering him at the moment is his deteriorating health caused by the steeply inclining rate of death, indefinitely being the Jewish and homosexual in his country being murdered en masse. Sighing, he walks up to the mirror in his current bedroom at Feliciano's house, noting how sunken his cheeks look, how dark his eyes are, and how his hair lay flatly on his head in the interim between when he showered and when he applied his hair gel. More than the last time he'd taken a good look at himself. He knew soon enough, he would be bed ridden and sick, for his immune system was also taking a beating. He never understood how Hitler could be so heartless, so cruel. A knocking sounded from his door.

"Come in,"

"Germany~?" Feliciano asks cautiously.

"What is it, _liebe_?" Ludwig responds, realizing he's only in a muscle tee and sweat pants, his favorite home combination. He walks to the closet, where a set of new clothing made from Italy sit, and picks out an over layer to wear.

"Russia is here to see you, _bello,_ what should I tell him?" He responds, a look of worry shadowing his eyes. Ludwig frowns, not knowing why his ally would want to discuss anything with him at this time.

"I'll go down there and talk to him myself," he replies, tightly knitting his eyebrows together. "Please,_ liebe_, don't look so worried, you look so much cuter when I don't worry you." He smiles, planting a kiss on his forehead before walking to where Ivan was waiting. Upon arriving, he flashes a wide, childish smile, which makes Ludwig a bit uneasy.

"_Privet_, Ludwig," Ivan greets him. Ludwig nods curtly in return, trying to calm his nerves. "I have come here to inform you that I am breaking our alliance formally." He says, purple orbs locking with blue. "I don't know if you were in control of your own pitiful leader, but he went against our alliance treaty, and invaded my land. He is currently still posted there, and I am demanding that you remove him, as soon as possible." Ludwig stands in shock, not expecting Hitler to have made any more moves, especially that stupid one.

"I deeply apologize, Ivan," he says quietly, head bowed. "But I didn't have any say in that. My leader is currently taking things out of hand, and I do not have any word or vote in the matter. I will admit faulty, because I put myself in this position. Hopefully, when this is over, we may collaborate again one day." He says, throwing away a great amount of pride, which is very uncharacteristic. He was not himself lately, his judgement impaired because of lack of sleep, caused by nightmares filled with death and homicide. Ivan gives him a quizzical look.

"I'm sorry to hear that, but I will not sway my opinion of you out of pity. Get your shit together, your leader is a traitor." Ivan replies bluntly, and walks out of the house. Ludwig hangs his head shamefully, knowing Ivan spoke the ugly truth. _Things aren't supposed to be going this badly! How am I supposed to win this war? _

"Don't fret, West, we'll get you out of this mess," Gilbert consoles him, patting him on the back a bit too forcefully. "Let's enjoy some good 'ole beer for now, how 'bout it?" Unfortunately, Ludwig was not in the mood to get wasted and drown in his problems drunkenly. He needs to face this like the man he is, and with his head high. So he does just that. He tilts his chin upwards, jaw set, and walks into the office room to come up with a plan.

Many crumpled papers lay on Ludwig's desk and overflow from his trash bin, in the stereotypical style of someone out of ideas. He truly was exactly that: utterly emptied of any good plans. He lets out an exasperated sigh; if he held enough brain power, like when he was healthy, he would be able to come up with something. Unfortunately, his mental stamina is running short, and he feels his body starting to feel fuzzy and distant from fatigue. _Damn my growing weakness! Hitler must be so fucking content right now..._He thinks bitterly, reluctantly admitting to himself that he is running out of living days. He knows full well that if he were to run himself out of steam, he would be in a coma until his country pulled its head out of the gutter, or he would cease to exist if he is not able to overcome his situation soon. There is a quiet knock on the door, and Feliciano enters his office quietly. Ludwig smiles warmly and welcomes him.

"What brings you in here,_ liebe_?" he asks, attempting to stand up, but realizing with a light head that he cannot support himself well anymore. Sinking back in his seat, Feliciano quickly makes his way over to him and drapes his arm around his shoulders, aiding the once-strong country to his feet.

"Oh, _merda_, this is exactly what I was worried about...You shouldn't push yourself too hard, _bello_~ come, let me help you with a plan." Italy tells him with wide, worried eyes, as he walks him slowly to Ludwig's room. Ludwig is getting increasingly worried, for he fears his physical existence is getting close to gone. Feliciano tries to put Ludwig into his bed gently, but is unsuccessful, because he collapses onto the bed quite ungracefully, instead. "Tell me, what is the outcome you want? Within reason," the worried Italian asks.

"I just want Hitler dead. I never knew I'd actually want somebody dead so badly in my life, but he has ruined me and my country beyond what I imagined when I appointed him leader. Things have gotten out of hand here," he responds, fumbling to get himself into a sitting position. Feliciano nods thoughtfully, carefully going over possibilities in his head about how to rid this man from his beloved Ludwig. Oh, how he hated seeing him suffer so. Suddenly, the German breaks out into a coughing fit, and Feliciano quickly fetches water for him. "Thank you, liebe...I'm getting so weak," Ludwig mutters after recovering. "I don't have much longer." The Italian gazes sadly at the German. He needs to find a way to help him, and do it soon. His new telephone rings, breaking his train of thought. He gets up and answers it.

_"Bonjourno_, Feliciano speaking," he says into the receiver. Ludwig can hear some loud squabbling on the other end and sees Feliciano hold the phone slightly farther away from his ear, and knows immediately that it's America. What would America want with Italy? "Ludwig, it's for you..." Italy says, a pained look in his eyes from having the obnoxious American speak so loudly. Taking the phone, he manages to say something.

"_Ja_?"

"Germany, dude!" Alfred's irritating voice comes from the other end. "So, I hear you've been using your U-boats to cause some havoc here, like back in WW1." Ludwig can hear a bit of an edge to his voice.

"I...I am?" Ludwig replies, thoroughly confused.

"Don't kid with me, asshole!" Alfred suddenly snaps. "Those things are fucking dangerous, and a threat to the safety of my people. I wanted to put this nicely, but since you're going to play dumb, I'm going to put it bluntly: I'm going to fucking war with you." Desperate to solve his confusion, the German quickly responds with,

"_Nein_, wait! I failed to mention to the others that I am currently not under control of my leader's actions! Bitte, America, if you're going to war with me, maybe you can help me kill the leader of my country!" There is a pause, and he can imagine the American giving a look of confusion.

"What the hell do you mean you're not in control of your own leader?" He demands, clearly frustrated that he was not getting the point.

"I mean my leader has gone against me and is currently killing every Jew and homosexual in my country. Others of minority, too. I am putting this quite lightly, Mr. Jones, and I am going to throw my quite damaged pride away to ask you to help me kill him." Ludwig replies, hoping the American would listen, and not get even more irritated with him. He can almost hear the gears turning in Alfred's head as he soaks up the information. Finally, he hears a gruff sigh, and responds.

"I suppose, Germany, I am the hero, after all! You must pay me back with the full amount, too. Let me just tell you, though, if you're pulling my leg, i swear over my grave that I will find you, and make you wish you never became a country." America responds, and briskly hangs up on him. Ludwig heaves a sigh and hands the telephone set back to Feliciano, who promptly sets it back in its original spot.

"What did he say, _bello_? It sounds like you asked him for help," he asks as he returns to his spot next to Ludwig.

"_Ja_, he didn't believe my situation at first, but I think he'll help us out now. Hopefully I can start doing things again soon..." Ludwig trails off, hoping Hitler won't use his army to ruin the American's army. Of course, he knew the condition of his own army, and knew Alfred would probably win.

And for once, he actually hopes he will be defeated.

*(A/N) I'm so sorry for not posting this for a long time! You'll have to have patience with me, homework has delayed my submission by a week or two by now... (/ﾟДﾟ)/ I'm sowwy again! I will try to have chapter 5 up as soon as I can! Also, I apologize for any formatting errors in my previous chapter, Fanfiction is being a butt D':


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